What is it?

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Abstract

he thought of a world without us but in reality, the world is way too big to even notice us Small particles of dust trying desperately every day to blow into someone’s path so we can feel seen But all we are is dust and no one will see us All they will do is brush us aside because we tried to hard to be more than just dust</p><p id="1735">What is it? A culture cataclysm opening a portal and sucking us all out of our own brains and back into reality where we are just a human among other humans walking and talking not wanting and needing Listening and analyzing not grabbing and shining What are we if all we are is a reflection of ourselves in a funhouse mirror never knowing which is the real image of us?</p><p id="4848">This body we hold, the one we are constantly hiding for fear it doesn’t look good enough but simultaneously shunning others on a subforum for expressing a single, realistic position on a rational topic which can’t be anymore because we need everything to be viral and hyperbolic A piñata of emotions now called mental health issues because our regular sadness has now been diagnosed and medicated as more because our doctor gets paid to give us drugs that c

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ome from a sample box</p><p id="8d48">What is it? What are we doing to ourselves constantly struggling with our self-image when those we are ogling are just as unhappy with theirs? Is anyone really happy even when they are meditating or are they wishing they were being still better than everyone else? It’s a simple construct, life but not through our tired and weary eyes worn thin from the tiny computer we stare at all day waiting for a response to the question How r u Because we are that lazy that we can’t even write are you? anymore</p><p id="2a05">© <a href="undefined">Jonathan Greene</a> 2020</p><p id="de77">If you liked this, you might like this as well:</p><div id="e977" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/look-at-us-6de4f04c764"> <div> <div> <h2>Look At Us</h2> <div><h3>A Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*HVbvjJ12jUzfHmAZ)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A Poem

What is it? This insatiable need to be seen or heard scrawling keyboard clacks into the void of the netherworld All done via a pseudonym so we can be recognized as someone we are not which seems odd, but also so modern and acceptable in a culture that has made friendship a commodity of connectivity burgeoned by a request

It’s really very oxymoronic the entire diorama of social networks constantly pulling us apart or making us feel less than because our fake photo isn’t as good as their fake photo and if our fake photo isn’t good our personal brand is in shambles Woe is me A saddened icon, representative of an actual person but less than and in being less than now the icon feels aggrieved

We get all tangential and existential at the thought of a world without us but in reality, the world is way too big to even notice us Small particles of dust trying desperately every day to blow into someone’s path so we can feel seen But all we are is dust and no one will see us All they will do is brush us aside because we tried to hard to be more than just dust

What is it? A culture cataclysm opening a portal and sucking us all out of our own brains and back into reality where we are just a human among other humans walking and talking not wanting and needing Listening and analyzing not grabbing and shining What are we if all we are is a reflection of ourselves in a funhouse mirror never knowing which is the real image of us?

This body we hold, the one we are constantly hiding for fear it doesn’t look good enough but simultaneously shunning others on a subforum for expressing a single, realistic position on a rational topic which can’t be anymore because we need everything to be viral and hyperbolic A piñata of emotions now called mental health issues because our regular sadness has now been diagnosed and medicated as more because our doctor gets paid to give us drugs that come from a sample box

What is it? What are we doing to ourselves constantly struggling with our self-image when those we are ogling are just as unhappy with theirs? Is anyone really happy even when they are meditating or are they wishing they were being still better than everyone else? It’s a simple construct, life but not through our tired and weary eyes worn thin from the tiny computer we stare at all day waiting for a response to the question How r u Because we are that lazy that we can’t even write are you? anymore

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